


Hallow's Eve

by jiokra



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Costume Kink, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Making Out, Piercings, ToT: Chocolate Box
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-22 23:53:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8305960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiokra/pseuds/jiokra
Summary: Pandemonium is hosting a Halloween ball with elaborate costumes and disguises, an exorbitant amount of hor d’oeuvres, spine curling music—and a séance on the dance floor.Alec hates Halloween.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pameluke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pameluke/gifts).



Every year, Alec fell for it: Halloween. A day when the mundane world and the Shadow World were aligned.

Isabelle often dragged him out in the night, full moons abloom, the stars aglow with magic and preternatural energy. Growing up in Idris, the holiday was never part of their childhood. The ghoulish masks, plastic teeth—it enchanted her so much that when they lived their first year alone in New York, she dragged Alec and a deceptively willing Jace to costume parties, midnight forest escapades, missions that led them down cobwebbed rabbit holes with silicone, skeletal hands that clutched his bow and had it thrum against his ear. To a mundane and, apparently, Isabelle, the holiday was a gateway into fairy tales and imagination. For Alec, it was discerning between a vampire seizing the night and sucking a mundane dry or someone in convincing make up going down on their date. 

This year, Alec hoped, would be a marginally better Halloween, as he was spending it with Magnus. 

Pandemonium held a massive, annual Halloween ball, attracting mundanes and Downworlders who appreciated the joke of shedding their mundane disguises and adorning their true forms, lying and introducing their true forms as an elaborate costume. Alec came as an archeology professor, dressed in a navy blue tweed cardigan, white buttoned shirt with maroon stripes, a foggy grey tie and matching pants which stretched all the way to his black, scuffed loafers. Nothing about his appearance referenced archeology, particularly the black masquerade mask mussing his hair, but he told people his costume was an archeology professor because that was Magnus’s compromise for Alec to bring his arrows to the ball. As far as Alec knew, he was the only Shadowhunter at the party, and he trusted people only as far as he could shoot them with an arrow. It just took one demon to trick a mundane with their “hand sewn costume and makeup which took five hours to put on,” and Pandemonium’s annual gala would no longer be famous just for the mystery punch served at the bar at a discount. 

At the moment he sat beside a languid Magnus on his leather couch, bow and arrows perched between his spread knees, watching the swaths of people like a hawk. A rune was burned on his torso heightening his eyesight, no hindrance posed by the strobe lights and multicolored neon beams that whisked throughout the nightclub. He felt along the band keeping his masquerade mask in place, a habit he acquired that night, and his hand tensed, dropping to his lap, as soon as he realized what he was doing. 

Magnus’s fingers drummed on Alec’s shoulder, arm tucked across his back, to the beat of the pulsating dubstep remix of a theme from some horror movie flick. The touch felt magnetic, made the heat of Magnus pressed along Alec’s side so much warmer. It didn’t help that Magnus was dressed up as a detective from a 1950s noir film, which Alec had mentioned off hand weeks ago that he’d always enjoyed that look of in men. And so here Magnus was in a pressed black suit lining his figure, a hat tipped just so to the side, his face fresh and, despite the fact that Alec knew Magnus wore make up, it looked so natural, as if there were nothing on Magnus’s face at all. Which enthralled Alec to a vexing degree. He kept finding himself glancing at Magnus more than usual, which was particularly annoying as the intermixing of mundanes and Downworlders with so much alcohol had Alec on edge. The tipped hat cast half of Magnus’s face in shadows, but every now and then as the neon beams whisked over their couch, there were glimmers of light on Magnus’s ears. Alec kept glancing over, attempting to catch Magnus’s ears when the light was strong, discern whether the flashes were jewelry or a trick of lighting. 

Magnus peered over at him now, catching him staring, and smiled. Alec’s stomach twisted, fluttering despite the fact that being caught staring at his boyfriend of over a year shouldn’t get him so nervous. But Magnus still managed to wreck him. “Relax. Downworlders are invitation only tonight,” said Magnus, as he had on several occasions in the weeks leading up to Halloween. 

“You never know who might squeak in,” Alec muttered, satisfied at how dry he sounded. 

He grew aware of how tense his muscles were, and as he began to consciously relax them, he glanced at Magnus, staring too long at his eyes, at his bare eyelids and eyelashes appearing thin in the absence of make up. He looked dashing, classically handsome, straight out of an Old Hollywood film. A blue light flashed over them, Magnus’s ears glimmering. Alec frowned. 

Magnus leaned into Alec, so close his lips brushed Alec’s ear. “You’re off duty. You’re here as my date, not security.” 

Alec set his eyes forward, glaring at the partygoers and ignoring the shivers along his spine as Magnus chuckled. 

A tight circle formed in the heart of the dancefloor. Then it began to spread, a clearing in the center, and the movements were so bizarre Magnus silenced in an instant, leaning away from Alec and tensing up. As linked hands rose up from the circle, glow-in-the-dark bracelets bright like rubies and gems on a crown, the drumming on Alec’s shoulder ceased. Narrowing his eyes, Alec spotted white lines in the center of the circle, pointed edges and circles—a pentacle. 

The dancers surrounding the circle began to scatter. A shriek pierced through the throbbing music. 

Without hesitance, Magnus threw his arm off Alec’s shoulders and sprung from the couch. Alec was not far behind, slinging the quiver across his chest and grabbing his bow. Wordlessly, they swept down the stairs and broke into the crowd, a security detail trailing behind them. Magnus whisked up a hand and sent a gentle wind through guests dressed in lavish costumes, waiters carrying around trays of hor d’oeurves, dancers lining the outskirts of the dancefloor. The wind was a siren alerting them to his presence, and people parted to let him through. Downworlders were a tinge quicker than the mundanes, for they recognized Magnus not as an egomaniac nightclub owner but a High Warlock. 

As they neared the pentacle, people stopped dancing to shuffle away from the ruckus, and the only people who didn’t clear a path for Magnus and Alec as the winds swept through were those joining hands in a tightly linked circle. At the sight of the pentacle, Alec’s reflexes sought for a bow, but then he got a good look at the thing and closed his eyes, hiding how far back they rolled because Magnus wished he’d disguise his frustrations in front of the Pandemonium’s customers. It didn’t present good business. 

If the way the circle’s participants tripped over their own two feet didn’t prove their blatant intoxication, the seven pointed star with one curved, concave point left little to the imagination. _Mundanes._ Alec wondered what Isabelle was doing. It seemed the true horrors of Halloween were inescapable no matter what Alec did. 

Magnus hummed. “I think I need whatever they’re having.” 

The security detail went past them, gathering up the mundanes and guiding them toward the exit. Which left the seven pointed pentacle. Alec made to suggest for Magnus to magic the strobe light into pulsating for a seconds while he cleared away the pentacle, disguising his magic from the mundanes, but before he could, a woman dressed up as a steampunk fairy with hair like Frankenstein’s bride brushed past him, tossing up her hands and spinning at the center of the pentacle. Soon a swath of people followed, the pentacle disappearing beneath them. 

“Nice costume, Robin Hood!” a man, dressed as a zombie medieval barkeep, bellowed right in his ear. 

Alec crooked his jaw. “I’m gonna take a taxi to the loft.” 

Magnus watched the Frankenstein’s bride wig bounce to the beat of the dubstep. “I’ll conjure a portal and give you a lift. I just need to say goodbye to a few people first.” 

* * *

As they strode through the portal, Alec was ranting.

“I hate Halloween,” he said. “You can never tell what’s real, what’s fake. Who starts a séance in the middle of a dancefloor?” 

“Drunks do,” Magnus said as he swept toward the bar. “Martini?” 

“I’d love one.” Alec set his bow and quiver against the sofa before collapsing on it. He tore off his masquerade mask and settled it on his lap, staring at it. Its beaded, plastic material mocked him. “I hate Halloween.” 

“So I’ve heard.” 

“Nothing’s real.” 

Magnus joined him on the sofa, offering a martini. Alec grumbled as he took it, silenced only by the shock of how strong the first sip was. By the time they finished their drinks, the edge wore off. Magnus took their empty glasses and set them on the coffee table, swiping the remote control and switching on the television as he fell back onto the couch, crossing his legs so that his ankle was perched on his knee and his thigh fell onto Alec’s lap. They flipped channels in silence, mumbling intelligibly whenever they stumbled across something vaguely interesting, and eventually settled with the silent film version of Dracula, _Nosferatu_. Alec’s hand drifted to Magnus’s thigh, kneading for a moment and slowing to a caress as he got sucked into the film. 

Alec could appreciate this side of Halloween: a monster movie, the material of Magnus’s pants, the pleasurable buzz of too much gin, the quiet, the solitude. And no children could beg for candy because Magnus’s loft didn’t have a doorbell. On reflex Alec turned to steal a peek at Magnus as a noir detective. 

What he found was Magnus staring astutely at the television. 

Alec frowned. “Are you all right?” 

Since Magnus looked so nice in the costume, Alec couldn’t help but look him over, spotting an industrial piercing in his ear, and Magnus’s sudden stoicism made all the more sense: A war raged between the pants’ zipper and Magnus’s hardened cock. Alec’s hand traced lines a precarious distance from Magnus’s groin. Hastily, Alec calculated how long they’d been in this position, and his own cock stirred. Smiling, Alec leaned into Magnus, pressing a kiss over his earring. When Magnus responded by groaning and grasping Alec’s elbow, tugging him closer, Alec wasn’t caught too much by surprise, and he let Magnus drag him until they were laying on the couch, Alec sprawled across his chest. 

Magnus kissed him, kneading his cock against Alec’s thigh, and Alec felt his cock harden all too quickly. He went to grasp Magnus’s hair and tug, but grabbed only fistfuls of the hat. Magnus groaned, ripping off the hat and tossing it behind the couch, then twined his fingers through Alec’s and guided him to touch the hair over his ear, hand slipping to grasp Alec’s wrist. Alec nipped at Magnus’s lip, and Magnus opened for him. 

It felt soothing—so right—like all those previous Halloweens had existed to make this moment sweeter. 

Magnus’s cock was so hard it was painful against Alec’s thigh. To rectify the situation, Alec moved his hand from Magnus’s hair to palm the fabric over his cock, but before he could, Magnus tore away from the kiss. 

“Wait, I want to—” He shifted beneath Alec, beckoning him to get off, and soon he was coaxing Alec to lay with his back on the couch. Magnus wrestled with Alec’s belt. “You have to understand. I’ve wanted to fuck an archeologist for around 150 years now.” 

A small laugh escaped Alec. It was then choked back by a groan as Magnus finished dealing with Alec’s clothes and finally seized his cock, which flinched with need despite the solid hold Magnus had on him. Magnus brushed away Alec’s shirt, kissing and sucking bruises along his navel and hipbones. Soon Magnus focused on a spot just where the coarse hair began, fingers slick from come tracing firm lines around the tip of his cock, thumb massaging slow lines back and forth across the frenulum, rendering Alec fit to stare absently at the ceiling. 

Magnus stopped kissing his hip, hand leaving his cock, and Alec was too stunned to protest, yet by the time he mustered the energy to mumble out a somber, “Why?” Magnus took Alec into his mouth. 

Magnus took him in deep. Alec wasn’t entirely sure how far, but far enough that without thinking, Alec groaned, low and throaty, and his eyes screwed shut, hand gripping his hair to give them something to do other than slap the couch or Magnus’s shoulder. It was too much—smooth and slick and agonizing everywhere, never a moment of rest around the head. Magnus took him deep quickly, then slowly pulled out, tongue swirling around the tip, tracing along edges, and when Alec felt himself close to coming, Magnus peppered kisses down his length before sucking a hickey on his thigh, fingers digging into his hips. Soon enough Alec was back in his mouth, yet Magnus wasn’t doing anything, just laying there with Alec inside him, and belatedly it occurred to Alec that this was a message. He mustered up the energy to jerk up his hips, pumping himself into Magnus’s mouth. Magnus matched the rhythm by pulling away as Alec did, making the moment when they both took Alec into his mouth all the more consuming. 

By the time he felt the pleasure coil in him, his come building, he was dimly aware of the cascade of frantic music blaring from the television. He turned to peer at the television, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as Nosferatu stared with owlishly large eyes back at him. But then Magnus did something amazing with his tongue that had Alec’s eyes shoot closed, and he came down Magnus’s throat. The music cascaded into a gentle rhythm as he rode down the echoes of pleasure. 

Magnus collapsed against his hip, using his stomach as a pillow, the metal of his earrings cold and burning pleasantly against Alec’s skin. As Alec returned to his senses, he came to the realization that today was the only Halloween he’d consider worth the effort. 

And it was the first Halloween with Magnus. 

A rising crescendo came from the television, and Alec’s mind grew less blanketed with fog. He contemplated how best to resolve Magnus’s still hard cock, how to convey his gratitude to Magnus for saving Halloween.


End file.
